


Delicate

by mooseysammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blind Character, Car Accidents, Fluff, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Punk!Dean, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 22:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooseysammy/pseuds/mooseysammy
Summary: All Dean knows is tattooing, drinking and Cas. But what if life takes a part of one of those things away from him?





	Delicate

_Is it cool that I said all that?_  
Is it chill that you’re in my head?  
‘Cause I know that it’s delicate 

Life is funny. Well, funny as in life is a bitch sometimes. Come to think of it, life isn’t funny at all. Life is just a bitch. It’s a bitch that shows up at the worst times to take away the best things in life. Life is like that friend who always shows up late to the party, you know the one I’m talking about, then they come in and drink all of your beer and trash the place before leaving, then there you are to pick up the pieces.

Granted, Dean never really had a problem with life. That is, until it took away part of Cas. 

_This ain’t for the best_  
My reputation’s never been worse, so  
You must like me for me 

Dean Winchester. Tattoo artist, alcoholic, glorified asshole. There were few people who crossed paths with him that weren’t annoyed or fed up with his antics. The man owned the Black Lotus, the local tattoo shop and he was the best artist in town. Dean was talented, that was for sure and he only hired artists with his skill level to help him run the shop. Ink littered his arms and metal pierced his lip. He was intimidating, that was also for sure. 

He frequented almost every bar on the main drag of town, leaving with a new guy or girl almost every night.

Until the night that he met Castiel. 

_We can’t make_  
Any promises now, can we, babe?  
But you can make me a drink 

Dean remembers it perfectly. It was a Saturday and he had just finished his shift at the shop, cleaning the tattoo guns and wiping the ink from their shiny surfaces. He decided that a beer was well deserved because of the day that he had went through. It seemed to be one customer after another in a constant cycle and he was exhausted, his hands cramping from the tedious work. 

So he locked up the shop and made his way down the street, the keys jingling in his pocket as he walked into the dimly lit bar. 

Castiel was a bartender, barely making enough to pay the rent but he didn’t care. What he did care about was the tuition bills that were also racking up along with the rent. He was an art student in hopes of making it into the spotlight someday. But, the more he waited the bar, the further the dream went away. The job was easy and the more you flirted with the customers, the more likely you were to get a bigger tip. The theory worked, especially on nights like this where the bar was full of completely ignorant drunks.  

Until  _he_ walked in. 

Cas met the green eyes of the man as he entered the door and immediately he knew who he was. Dean Winchester. Trouble. Simple as that. But Cas didn’t feel threatened, not in the least little bit like he thought he would feel upon meeting the man. Sure, he was a frequent customer, but Castiel rarely served him. He only admired from afar across the dingy room while he wiped down the empty bar stools and tables. 

But tonight was different and Cas could feel it. There he was, behind the bar and Dean was staring back at him. His green eyes cut through Cas and he fumbled with the towel in his hands. 

“Uhm…Can..Can I get you something?” Castiel stammered over his words, avoiding the gaze of the man across the bar. 

“Just a beer will do,” Dean said in response, a smirk plastered across his face. “And your number.” Dean added as Cas turned around to prepare the drink. His shoulders tensed up and he felt his cheeks get heated at the comment, trying his best to ignore the words that slipped from Dean’s lips. 

But how was he supposed to when it was Dean Winchester, glorified bad ass, asking him for his number? 

So he gave him his number and things would never be the same. 

_Dive bar on the East Side, where you at?_  
Phone lights up my nightstand in the black  
Come here, you can meet me in the back  
Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you  
Oh damn, never seen that color blue  
Just think of the fun things we could do  


What was simply a few months of going to different bars on their nights off turned into dinner at fancy restaurants and trips to the street fairs and soon enough, Dean and Cas were inseparable. Just like any other disgustingly cute love story, they were an item. Dean’s toothbrush was at Cas’ apartment and a few T-Shirts of his were at Dean’s. 

Tonight though, the two were apart and living their separate lives. Cas was in his one bedroom apartment on the other side of town and Dean was…Well, God only knew where Dean was. Castiel tried to not think about it though. He never doubted that Dean would be loyal but at the same time…He was Dean Winchester. He was notorious for being a player in the game of random bar hookups. 

Cas sighed, rolling over in bed to stare up at the ceiling blankly. He studied the chipping paint and decided that it was probably time to either fix it or move, whichever seemed easier. His phone lighting up on the bedside table brought him out of his thoughts and he rolled over, picking the device up to read the message.

‘ _Meet me at the Corner Pocket_   _downtown for drinks?’_  the message read and Cas couldn’t help but smile a little. Dean had a way with pulling him in all the time, even though the man was exhausted from a long work week. Castiel managed to throw his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and glancing out the window for a moment. The street was quiet, quieter than usual, with only a few cars putting along and the sound of drunken voices carrying through the small crack in the window. The perfect mood for sleeping. He should be sleeping, tomorrow would be another stressful day of work, but he also wanted to see Dean. 

The man trudged to the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he leaned against the sink for a moment. ‘What was he doing getting involved with someone like Dean?’ But at the same time he found himself always thinking about what the future with Dean held. 

If there even was one. 

* * *

The bar smelled like a chain smoker’s apartment mixed with sweat and an abundance of alcohol. Leave it to Dean to pick the sleaziest bar on the strip. Cas didn’t mind though. He was seeing his boy. That’s all he cared about. He pushed his way through the crowded bar, snaking his way through the sea of dancing bodies to the booth in the back of the bar where Dean was waiting with a drink for Castiel. The ripped cushions of the booth added to atmosphere and the ghostly poetic words and dates of hookups past were etched into the table with either a knife or a sharpie marker. 

“Sorry I’m late.” Cas mumbled and slid into the booth across from Dean, a smile plastered on his face. “I had to help my neighbor get their groceries in from the car…She has 3 kids and sometimes it’s hard to keep them all–” 

“You’re like an hour late…” Dean interrupted the man who now was slouched in the booth due to Dean’s tone. His voice was starting to slur and his breath smelled like cheap liquor. 

“I know..” Castiel mumbled, looking down at his hands and the glass in front of him. “I just…I wanted to help her, I didn’t want her to–”

“Oh, I understand what you wanted, Cas.” Dean mumbled and rolled his eyes, downing the rest of the drink in the glass. “Whatever. I’m going to get another drink.”

“Dean no,” Cas frowned, standing up to meet him at almost eye level. He gently grabbed onto the other man’s arm. “Dean come on, let’s just go home.” He added softly. “You’ve had enough to drink.”

Dean pulled his arm away roughly, “You don’t know anything.” He slurred, his green eyes glaring back into Castiel’s blue ones. 

“Dean, please.” Castiel practically begged, reaching out for the man’s arm again. Instead though, Dean lifted his hand, striking Cas across the cheek in a drunken rage. Cas yelped, cupping his cheek gently in his hand and tears threatened to escape his eyes, cascading down his cheeks like a stream of water. One tear fell and Dean watched, his face softening a bit as he realized what he had done. 

“Cas…” Dean frowned, his voice suddenly sobered up a bit and he reached out for his love. Castiel simply turned away from him. 

“Find someone else to take you home tonight, I don’t want to see you.” Castiel frowned and tried to force his way through the crowd to get to the door. Dean was hot on his heels, his pleas only making the tears escape Castiel’s eyes faster as he approached the door. The bumping bass suddenly quieted as he pushed his way out the entrance of the Corner Pocket. 

“Cas please…” Dean pleaded again as the two were alone on the cracked sidewalk outside the bar. 

“What, Dean? What do you want me to say?” Castiel snapped, tears still flooding his eyes. He wanted to disappear. Right now. Right in this moment. But he couldn’t. He didn’t even want to look at Dean. 

“Cas, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” 

“You  _hit_  me Dean. How do I know that’s going to be the last time it happens?” Cas sniffled, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. It was stained with tears already but He didn’t care. 

“Because I love you, you know that.” Dean frowned, taking a step toward Cas but the other man only backed a step away. 

“Dean, please…” Cas frowned, sniffling even more. “Please just go home. Go home and get some rest.” He started to walk away, his arms wrapped around his own body in a protective manner. 

“Cas just let me walk you home,” Dean called and Castiel turned around, a frown on his face. 

“What part of ‘I don’t want to see you’ do you not understand?!” Cas yelled. He was never one to raise his voice but in a situation like this it was dire. He teetered his heels against the curb as he turned to face Dean, ready to step out to cross the empty street. “Just…go home, Dean. Please.” The man repeated. “Go home to whoever else you’re fucking around with behind my back.”

“You know that’s not true.” Dean frowned and was starting to raise his voice as well. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“You also said you would never lay a hand on me and here we are.” Castiel snapped before shaking his head and taking his first step out into the street to cross. He was facing Dean still, his back to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street as he backpedaled to continue the fight with the green eyed man. “Just…I’m done, Dean. We can talk about this la–” He began to say but the sentence was cut short by the sound of screeching tires and a flash of headlights. 

It happened too fast. Too fast for anyone to react properly, For anyone to yell for Cas to get out of the way, For Dean to throw himself in front of the speeding car. 

It happened too fast and life would never be the same.

* * *

Dean blamed himself, simple as that. He blamed himself for the fight, he blamed himself for Cas stepping off the curb. He sure as hell blamed himself for the man having to lay in this depressing hellhole of a hospital. The smell of bleach and sickness burned Dean’s nose and he couldn’t help but let the few tears in his eyes escape down his cheeks. 

Months had passed since the accident, but the image of Cas laying on the cold pavement was etched into his mind like one of the tattoos that littered his skin. It was permanent, just like the injuries. The injuries that Dean felt like were his fault. 

He closed his eyes, leaning his head forward to rest his forehead in the palms of hands. It always took Dean a few minutes to get the courage to walk into Cas’ room. It was hard to get the courage to though when all he saw after closing his eyes for the brief moment was the accident.  The broken glass shattered across the pavement, glistening like crystals in the flashing lights of the emergency personnel. He could still see Cas’ cold face, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. Dean could remember holding Cas close in his arms, the driver of the car apologizing and offering to help as they claimed they hadn’t seen the man step off the curb. All Dean could do was muster a ‘fuck you’ along with a few other expletives that poured from his mouth like water from the sink. What he really wanted to do was knock the man driving the car out, to tell him that he was a complete idiot, that he had possibly taken the only good thing in Dean’s life away.

Dean looked up finally, staring at the opposite wall in the hospital. A painting at eye level caught his attention. It was a swirl of colors, reds mixed with blues and greens. He thought about how the color patterns would look great in a tattoo. Cas loved blue. He was pulled from his thoughts ultimately when the nurse came to get him from the waiting room, a routine that Dean was all too used to. 

“He’s awake.” The nurse said and Dean stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Awake?” He choked out. Cas had been asleep since the accident. 2 months, 4 days, 22 hours and 54 seconds to be exact but, it wasn’t like Dean was counting or anything. 

“Awake,” The nurse repeated with a slight smile but it faded quickly. “But, I’m afraid that…There are some complications.” 

Dean felt his heart drop to his stomach, “Complications? What do you mean complications?” 

The nurse sighed quietly, giving Dean a sympathetic look and motioning for him to walk down the hallway with her. “Accidents like this have one of two outcomes.” She begins to explain. “Either the patient fully recovers over time, or they have an injury that is incapable of healing. Castiel suffered from the second outcome, sadly.” She said, stopping at the door that lead to his room. 

Dean stopped, studying the door like he did every other time he visited the hospital to sit by Cas’ bedside. He studied the paint lines on the door, they needed to be redone and were starting to chip only slightly, and the whiteboard clipped to the outside of it with his name written in black in large curvy letters. Dean took a deep breath, looking down and the ink on his arms and rubbing it gently and nervously around his wrists before looking back at the nurse.

“Which means?” He almost snaps as if he sounded annoyed with the entire situation. “What? You guys just gave up with helping him? What is it? Head trauma? Broken bones? Some cuts and bruises?” He started to ramble, anger lacing his voice more and more with every word. 

“Blindness,” The nurse interrupted him and Dean felt as though the walls around him were crumbling down. No, not his Cas. Something like this couldn’t happen to  _his_ Cas. “Optic nerve damage is common though with intense blows to the head which is, obviously, what occurred here.” She continued to explain but Dean was in his own world. 

_Cas was blind? He couldn’t be…It had to be a dream. Yeah, all this was was a shitty dream and he would wake up from it in the chair beside the hospital bed and Cas would be fine. Or better yet, he would wake up in Castiel’s apartment after a night together and he would have Cas wrapped up in his arms and–_

“Dean?” Dean was pulled out of his own thoughts again as he looked at the nurse who had opened the door and was standing in the threshold. 

Cas was laying on his back in the bed, mumbling into the phone that was pressed to his ear and Dean figured he was probably talking to some family, assuring them that he was okay, even though he wasn’t. Cas was good about that, making the situation seem less drastic than what it actually was. 

Like the night of the fight, the night of the accident, Cas had every right to punch Dean in the nose and make him bleed out there on the sidewalk in front of the Corner Pocket. He didn’t hit Dean thought, simply because he was a bigger person than Dean. He was a better person than Dean and what hurt Dean the most was the fact that the last image Cas had of him was one of rage and anger. 

He stood in the doorway as the nurse left to check on her other patients down the hall. Yet again, Dean messed with the ink on his wrist, tracing the shape out from the fresh ink. He, of all people, knew this wasn’t the ideal action but at the same time his nerves were through the roof as he watched Cas. The man was propped up in bed, thanks to it being raised up and he continued to keep his gaze forward at the ceiling while he spoke. Like he even really had a choice. 

Dean pulled his lip between his teeth, messing with the piece of metal from the piercing as he watched. Cas finally put the phone down, reaching up to rub his head and Dean finally had the nerve to speak up. 

“Cas?” Dean frowned, knocking on the already open door gently. 

“Dean.” Cas said quietly, a slight smile forming a bit on his face as he reached out for the man. Dean didn’t hesitate to quickly sit down on the side of the bed and take his hand in his. 

“Cas, I’m…” He trails off, looking at the bruises on and cuts on Castiel’s face. Dean’s eyes then wandered down to Castiel’s. The vibrant blue hue of his eyes was only slightly faded and Dean bit down harder on his lip. He was angry. Angry at himself for starting the fight. Angry at the driver for taking away a part of his Cas. “Why couldn’t you have just came home with me the night of the accident?” Dean frowned, letting go of his hand even though Cas’ lingered on the sheets of the bed beside where Dean’s previously was. 

Castiel stayed quiet for a while before answering, “Because I didn’t feel safe Dean, you hit me.” He mumbled quietly, playing with a loose thread of the sheets on the bed. 

“Dammit Cas, it was a mistake. I was…I was stupid and, look at what happened!” Dean yelled, choking a bit on his tears and Cas could tell. The injured man reached over, grasping Dean’s hand gingerly, squeezing it a little. 

“Dean don’t.” He frowned quietly, his fingers tracing gently over the new ink on Dean’s right wrist. 

Castiel’s frown slowly faded and his expression turned into a slight smile. “Is this a new tattoo?” He asked quietly, his fingers still tracing over the raised bits of skin. 

Dean bit his lip and wiped his eyes quickly with his free hand, “Oh, uhm…Yeah, yeah.” Dean nodded, sniffling gently and smiling. “Can you guess what it is? Feel it.” He encouraged. 

Cas ran his hands over Dean’s skin yet again, feeling the bumps and lines carefully and longingly. “Is it a cross? Bad ass Dean Winchester has a cross tattooed on his wrist?” Cas teased but he was right. It was a cross, a large one across his wrist and up his forearm. 

And it gave Dean an idea. 

* * *

Castiel was a fast learner. It was obvious that the man was intelligent but Dean was impressed with him over the last few summer months. He was walking independently with his crutches and Dean by his side solely for company, almost near fluent in reading braille and he was an expert at Dean’s new tattoos. 

Dean wasn’t complaining about it, it gave the man an excuse to tattoo himself more which he loved and he loved seeing the smile spread across Castiel’s face in joy when he guessed the tattoo correctly. 

So Dean decided that today would be different. 

He came at his usual time, 6:30 after he had closed down the shop for the night and before the drunken crowd of bar-goes invaded the streets to a point where he couldn’t make it out without a traffic jam occurring. Cas was also doing his usual, eating dinner in his room, speaking with his nurse and discussing when the man could go home. It was tomorrow and Dean couldn’t be more thrilled that the man had decided to stay at his house until he got a better feel for things. Dean knocked quietly on the door per usual, the tiny tap-tap-tap barely even audible but Cas was always expecting it around this time. 

“Hello Dean,” He said in his usual gruff voice, reaching out for the man’s hand which was also a routine. 

“What did you bring for me to figure out today?” Castiel’s smile spread across his face as he intertwined their fingers and played with Dean’s hand for a moment before running his hand over his arm to find the newly inked-up skin. 

“Sorry, wrong hand.” Dean said teasingly and he nervously messed with his lip ring with his free hand, twisting ring between his fingers and pulling on it gently. 

Castiel ran his finger’s over Dean’s smooth skin and smiled even wider to himself. Dean’s skin felt warm from the August heat and Cas could tell that he walked here from the heat radiating from his skin. 

“We should try to go outside tonight if the sun is still out,” Cas smiled, “I haven’t been out for a while.” He added and Dean assured him that they would take a walk. He continued to run his fingers over Dean’s skin, brushing by the newly raised skin from fresh ink on his left wrist. “Left wrist.” Cas said, “Right?”

“As right as always,” Dean smiled, watching Cas as he closed his eyes as if he were concentrating hard on the dots along Dean’s skin. Castiel’s smile though soon faded into a slight frown as he concentrated. “Dean, these are just dots.” He huffed, “I thought you said you had something good for me today.” 

Dean gently took Castiel’s wrist, “Move this way.” He showed him, running their hands gently across the dots. Cas continued to keep his puzzled expression but did as Dean said. 

Cas pulled his hand away quickly when it clicked what was happening but then he quickly felt for Dean’s hand to feel the tattoo again.

Braille. It was a phrase written in Braille. Cas should have known. A smile spread widely across his face as he continued to feel the dots over and over again like he couldn’t get enough of it. It was a simple phrase but one that Cas wanted to cherish forever. 

‘ _Will You Marry Me?’,_ The dots read across Dean’s wrist and Cas couldn’t get enough of how full his heart felt. 

“I would be honored to, Dean Winchester.” He mumbled, pulling on Dean’s wrist to pull him closer into a gentle kiss. Their lips touched and the softness of Dean’s lips against Castiel’s made him happier than he had ever been. 

And, for a moment, Cas was finally whole again. 

And all Dean could ever ask for for would be for Cas to feel whole again. 

For them to feel whole together.

Forever. 


End file.
